


Eyes Open

by yallaintright



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Hospitals, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 13:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2271039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yallaintright/pseuds/yallaintright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Courfeyrac opens his eyes, the hottest guy he's ever seen is blinking down at him with a concerned frown on his face.</p>
<p>"Oh, hello," Courfeyrac purrs sleepily. "Have I died and gone to wet dream heaven?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eyes Open

When Courfeyrac opens his eyes, the hottest guy he's ever seen is blinking down at him with a concerned frown on his face.

"Oh, hello," Courfeyrac purrs sleepily. "Have I died and gone to wet dream heaven?"

The guy hides his face in his hands for a moment and something that sounds remarkably like Enjolras whimpering comes from somewhere on Courfeyrac's left. Courfeyrac, fantastic friend that he is, ignores it. There is a time and a place to deal with Enjolras' general aversion to Courfeyrac flirting, and it’s certainly not when Courfeyrac is trying to hit on a hot guy.

"I am so sorry, Dr. Combeferre," Enjolras says and, really, that's it, Courfeyrac has had a doctor kink since he was old enough to know what a kink even was; he is definitely dead and in wet dream heaven.

Which, judging by the guy's ridiculously pretty, ridiculously messy strawberry blond hair and obscenely long fingers, might just be worth it. Courfeyrac feels like he should worry about being dead but, really, he reserves the right to not worry about stupid shit when he's trying to hit on ridiculously pretty people.

"It's no problem," Dr. Combeferre says in a voice that's only slightly strained and Courfeyrac isn't that surprised to find even his voice is ridiculously pretty. Like a rainbow covered in glitter. "Are you feeling alright, Courfeyrac?"

Courfeyrac considers this. There is a distinctive weight in his left leg that he does not remember being there when he'd last closed his eyes, he feels like something crawled inside his mouth and died, and the drumming inside his head makes him wonder if Enjolras finally decided to hit him with a bat for turning his clothes pink that one time. And, even ignoring how he feels, there's also the matter of where he is--and if the beeping machinery, the white on white of the walls, the catheter sticking out of his hand, and Dr. Combeferre's labcoat are any indication, it's the hospital.

"Did Enjolras try to kill me?" Courfeyrac asks in a very small voice. "He does that sometimes. It's how he shows he cares."

"Enjolras _brought_ you to the hospital," Enjolras snaps, and Courfeyrac can hear the 'you idiot' hanging at the end of that, even if Enjolras doesn't bother verbalizing it.

Now that Courfeyrac is a bit more aware of his surroundings, he can see Enjolras sitting down in an armchair by the window, looking bored out of his mind. "What happened?" Courfeyrac asks.

"You broke an ankle--" Combeferre starts to say.

Enjolras interrupts him, annoying little shit that he is: "--Bahorel bet you you couldn't climb the tree in his garden. You bet him you could. You fell down and broke an ankle."

Courfeyrac has to admit it does sound like something he'd do.

"I see," Courfeyrac says in an even tone. "Did I bump my head on the way down?"

"I've been asking myself that since the day I met you," Enjolras says through gritted teeth.

Combeferre doesn't even have the decency to hide his laughter. Courfeyrac is definitely keeping him.

"No, you didn't hit your head. You're just a bit... brain-addled... from the anesthesia. You'll remember everything once you've had more time to recover."

"Yes, that," Enjolras interrupts, and the way his brow knit suggests concern, even to Courfeyrac's sarcastic eyes. "Wasn't he supposed to get an epidural? Did something happen?"

Wait--what? Why is Courfeyrac getting an epidural? Is the baby okay? Since when is Courfeyrac pregnant? Since when does Courfeyrac have a uterus?

He doesn't realize he's said this out loud until Combeferre bites his lip hard enough to draw blood so as not to laugh and Enjolras simply throws his hands in surrender and stalks out of the room.

"That was Enjolras," Courfeyrac deadpans.

"He was worried about you," Combeferre says patiently. "Surgery wasn't supposed to take as long as it did."

"Yes, why did it take so long?

"Because we had to put you under general anesthesia."

Courfeyrac mulls this over. "Why?"

Combeferre, for some inane reason, actually _blushes_.

"Yes?" Courfeyrac presses.

Combeferre sits down heavily on the edge of Courfeyrac's bed, resting a hand on what Courfeyrac can now recognize as a cast surrounding his lower leg. That explains the additional weight, at least.

"Well," Combeferre hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. "You kept flirting--"

"--I do that when I'm nervous--"

"--and I could not do my job, so I told you you could either stop flirting or be put under general anesthesia. You chose general anesthesia."

That also sounds like something Courfeyrac would do. "That sounds like something I'd do," he says helpfully.

At that, the corners of Combeferre's mouth appear to quirk up despite his better judgement. "Surgery went well, at any rate. About six weeks in a cast, and you'll be back to normal."

Courfeyrac blinks up at him, tilting his head to the side. "Are you my doctor, then?"

"I was your _surgeon_ , not your doctor," Combeferre says with a smile. "Doctor Thenardier will be along in a bit. I just wanted to check in on you."

Well, that certainly makes things easier for Courfeyrac. "Just out of curiosity, what is the hospital's policy on dating patients?"

Combeferre blinks again. Courfeyrac is utterly delighted. "That we shouldn't do it?" he asks, tentatively.

On the one hand, it's very good to know that even through his drug-addled brain, Courfeyrac can recognize when someone's giving him what he's come to recognize as the 'well, you're really hot, and I'd totally bend you over the nearest flat surface once you get the cast off, but I'm a decent person and I think that might be unethical' speech. On the other hand, well, he’s being given the 'well, you're really hot, and I'd totally bend you over the nearest flat surface once you get the cast off, but I'm a decent person and I think that might be unethical' speech. Courfeyrac has to try very hard not to roll his eyes.

Ah, well. He's nothing if not extremely convincing when he sets his mind to it. "Why shouldn't you date a patient?" he asks, almost politely.

"Because it's unethical?"

Courfeyrac frowns. "Why is it unethical?"

"I've had my hand inside you?" Combeferre asks, and it looks like he realizes at the last minute what he's just said and goes even more violently red.

"I love it when you talk dirty," Courfeyrac coos.

"I love it when high patients hit on me," Combeferre deadpans, letting out a snort of derision.

"No, see, here is where your thinking is erroneous--your hotness is completely unrelated to how high I am. You see, I won't be stoned tomorrow, but you'll still be _really_ hot."

Combeferre rolls his eyes again and pats Courfeyrac's cast comfortingly. "Sleep off your high. I'll be back tomorrow, if you still want to ask me on a date."

Courfeyrac wants to reply, he really does, preferably with something very smart and very witty, but the room is very warm and the bed is very soft and Courfeyrac is very sleepy. Finally, he sleeps, dreaming of nothing but Combeferre's long, long fingers which have _already_ been inside him.

\---

When Combeferre walks out of the room, Enjolras is leaning against the hospital wall, looking extremely amused.

"Did he remember?" he asks in an excited tone of voice that Combeferre would normally associate with Marius.

“I am so glad that you find my boyfriend forgetting about me so amusing,” Combeferre says, deadly calm.

“Oh, _please_ ,” Enjolras scoffs. “I’d take that seriously if we both didn’t know it was just an anesthesia side-effect. He’ll be fine once he’s slept it off, and you, my friend, will have to spend the next six weeks looking after a grumpy Courfeyrac who cannot walk at all.”

“Just because I know it’s temporary doesn’t make it any more fun, you idiot,” Combeferre tries to snap, but he can feel himself wanting to smile as well. “It is funny, in a way. And it’ll probably teach Courfeyrac not to climb trees.”

"He’s your boyfriend. Considering the usual insanity coming from Courfeyrac, this has actually been a pretty normal day," Enjolras says, smiling with all his teeth. "But whatever, he didn’t remember; that means I win and Grantaire owes me five blowjobs."

Combeferre doesn't even bother with a reply, simply throwing the labcoat Enjolras had borrowed from Cosette at the blond's head instead, already starting to worry about the best ways to have sex with someone recovering from a broken ankle.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr!](http://arcoiriseglitter.tumblr.com/)


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